Talking With An Angel

June, 1997

I could hear strange noises in my con-do, so I got up and crept toward the kitchen. I won't say I was ready to kill, but I was ready to maim. Then I saw him, his overcoat on, slumped over the kitchen sink like a drunk, shoveling cereal and milk into his face. "John Travolta?" I asked."Nope," he said without missing a scoop of his cereal. "You got any more sugar around here?""You're not John Travolta?""You saw the movie, huh?" he asked."Micha...